Remain Nameless | Bts x reader

What am I without you?

"Hazy" (y/n) leaned back into his touch, letting her body use his as a support as a wave of dizziness hit.

The movement of his hands brushing over her head was pushing her closer to the edge. She could hear the blood in her head pulsating. The resonance of his palm running over her ear sounded like the sea, just like a shell would.

(Y/n)'s eyes, burdened by the weight of exhaustion, surrendered to the allure of sleep. The heavy lids descended gradually, like the final curtain. Her figure, hanging to consciousness, now melted seamlessly into Yoongi. Her head, heavy with fatigue, lulled back into the space on his shoulder, and her face softened.

"Stay awake for me," Yoongi whispered, a gentle plea brushing against (y/n)'s ear with the lightest breath. "Just for a few minutes, just to get dressed." (Y/n) shook her head, a silent admission that the pull of sleep was too irresistible. She twisted further into Yoongi's chest, seeking solace in the contours of his embrace. Her arms, emerging from the protective cocoon of the blanket, reached out to encircle his neck. Fingers intertwined, creating a delicate crown on the back of his head.

He could smell how the rain had soaked into rain her skin and how soft it felt as his finger trailed her shoulder; it was grounding. Whatever instinct had prompted him to leave early, he felt grateful for it. He let his focus linger on (y/n). As is to reassure himself of her presence, he let his hand trail up to trace the lines of her face. Felt the flutter of her eyelashes as she blinked slowly, eyes wide and diabolical.

"Come on, you'll catch a cold." Yoongi urged once more. His gaze shifted from her to the clothes he had brought over. However, despite the coaxing, his hold remained steadfast.

"I'm tired," she murmured back, the words barely audible.

Yoongi felt his heart jerk in his chest. At the same time, there was a deafening crash of thunder; it rolled on longer than before, almost like the universe was sending a song. His arms snaked rounder (y/n)'s body, enveloping around her waist. He couldn't get the sound off his head; its deep rumble kept echoing, shaking his brain.

Yoongi thought back to the sensation that had been lingering within him for days, a haunting echo that refused to fade after his nightmare. Feeling like he was standing on dry land, arms outstretched, while his friends walked gracefully on the water before him. The image replayed in his mind like an unforgettable loop; each job they had done for the war caused a yearning that had taken residence in his chest. He had felt it in the quiet moments before sleep claimed him or during solitary walks when the world seemed to hush into stillness. It wasn't a lamentation; instead, it became a source of introspection, a contemplation of purpose.

The sense of vastness and inevitability came flooding in and out until he was left with the fleeting feeling that he was put on the earth to hold onto the nightblade in his grasp. But as his heart skipped like a stone across a pound, he felt relief. He didn't have to fight wars. Instead, his purpose seemed to crystallise in that moment. If she was resigned to late nights in meetings and long hours slaving over maps, he was resigned to her. What was he here for, if not to put (y/n) to bed or to make sure she ate? Though it wasn't just him, he saw it in Jin and Taehyung, even Jungkook. They had no real skill to help plan a war, yet they all followed her here.

Suddenly, the world didn't feel so expansive; it felt small and contained in her tiny red tent. Yoongi's heartbeat gradually synchronised with the natural cadence of the storm. His fingers, exploring the landscape of (y/n)'s back, felt the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, syncing with the ebb and flow of the rain.

Yoongi sighed, not having the effort to keep her awake. So, he summoned the remnants of his energy and shuffled them back to the head of the bed. He stacked the pillows behind his body with one arm and leaned back on the make-shift headboard.